I drop my hands. The heavy fabric slides down.
The table goes silent.
Devan didn't just nip me; hebrandedme. The mark is a dark, bruised crescent right over my scent gland, impossible to miss.
"Holy shit," Braiden whispers. "It happened? You and the guy who looks like he murders joy for a living?"
"He doesn't murder joy," I mumble, picking at a loose thread on my jeans. "He just... organizes it efficiently."
"You'remated," Toby says. He sounds scandalized, but there's a softness in his eyes. He reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. "Sam. When? How?"
"Couple weeks ago," I admit. "Officially. But... yeah."
"A couple ofweeks?" Jionni whistles. "And you kept that quiet? I'm impressed. I didn't think you could keep a secret for five minutes."
"We were trying to figure stuff out! And it's... it's a lot, okay? There's the proposal, and the internship, and suddenly I'm bonded to the guy I've been arguing with forever and my brain is still catching up."
"Wait," Wes says, wiping mayonnaise off his lip. "You were working on a massive research project with the guy who just claimed you? While hiding the claim?"
"Yes."
"That sounds... hot," Wes decides with a shrug. "Stressful, but hot."
"It was a lot." But even as I say it, my mind flashes back to the library. The way Devan looked at me when I solved the problem. The way he pulled me onto his lap. The chair creaking. The books falling off the table.
I shift in my seat, trying not to think about it. I've been mated for two weeks and I'm already completely gone for him.
"So," Braiden says. "Devan Morse. I mean... he's intense, Sam. Like,reallyintense. I saw him make a grad student cry just by asking one question about their research."
"He wasn't trying to be mean," I say automatically. "He just doesn't do small talk. He asks real questions. Some people can't handle that."
"He's an iceberg," Jionni counters, stealing a grape from Toby's pyramid. Toby slaps his hand, but Jionni eats it anyway. "Cold. Hard. Sinks ships."
"He isnotcold," I snap.
The table goes quiet. My voice was louder than I intended.
"He's not," I say. "You guys don't see him. You see the resting bitch face and the black clothes and the silence. But he's not cold. He's... careful. He feels everything, he just doesn't know how to show it. So he holds it in until he trusts you enough to let you see."
I think of him last night, the way he traced my spine with his fingertips, the way he whisperedmineagainst my skin like he was praying.
I swallow, my throat feeling tight. "He's actually really sweet. In a weird, intense, staring-at-you-until-you-combust kind of way. He brought me my favorite snacks because he noticed a pattern in my habits. Who does that?"
Wes grins. "A whipped alpha, that's who."
I look at my friends. "I've been defending him forever, haven't I?"
Braiden nods slowly. "Every time we called him a robot, you'd get all huffy and say he was a 'misunderstood genius'."
"And every time he beat you on a test, you'd spend three hours talking about how brilliant his argument was while pretending to be mad," Jionni adds.
"I thought I hated him," I say, shaking my head. "I really thought I did. I didn't want to be just another omega swooning over a smart alpha. I wanted to be his equal. So I picked a fight."
"And now?" Wes asks. "Are you his equal?"
"I think so," I say. "He makes me feel like I am."
And just like that, the reality crashes back in.
